


Eternum

by whorror_jpeg



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Language, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, light misogyny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22913350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whorror_jpeg/pseuds/whorror_jpeg
Summary: After being turned into a wolf, Geralt struggles to find his way back to his body, unable to talk or do basic human things. In his journey, he meets a young woman, who hopes to help him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 43
Kudos: 143





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr, my @ is whorror-jpeg!  
> Welcome to this thing lol. People who were kind enough to suggest things or request, I promise I’ll get to yours as well! Happy reading! Sorry for the shortness as well, this is basically an introduction, but more is to come!

The cold of winter billowed harshly through equally icy fur, a muddy mind trickled back to consciousness from the depths of quiet darkness. The roar of life around him was loud— _so loud,_ louder than even he was used to. He was caught off-guard by how hollow and _dead_ everything appeared before him. It was as if his mind had picked a handful of colors and splashed it on the world in front of him. Everything else was _so gray_.

He sat up steadily. He felt weak and smaller than what he was, and vertigo hit him like a horse— _where was Roach?_

Quickly, he collapsed on his side, pain flared deeply through his body and into his bones. He ached. He closed his eyes and huffed— _why was he in so much pain?_ Upon opening them, he looked down.

Two long, white, pawed legs were extended in front of his person. His heart picked up in a way it never had; at least, not since he was a boy. What was this? He smelled it on prey, _people_ even.

_Fear_. Geralt felt fear.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins, he could hear it. Slowly, he sat back up with his pawed legs.

Clothes were strewn about— _they were his._ He could see his swords, still sheathed, reflecting the little light that peaked through the cloudy, wintry sky. Slowly he stood on all four-pawed legs, attempting to drag himself towards the swords, trying to not collapse. His weight was distributed differently than he was used to. Not without difficulty did he bring himself to the glaring silver and took a deep look into the reflection.

The face that stared back was _not_ his. Pointed muzzle, Black, wet nose, whiskers, pointed ears… the same, piercing, golden- amber cat eyes sat in a wolf’s face.

Surprised, he backed up, back legs collapsing from underneath him. Geralt looked around. Trees surrounded him, but there was no clear telling of what forest or land he was in. The forest seemed vacant of all life, and most importantly, Roach. And for the first time, Geralt felt truly and utterly alone.

_Fuck._

* * *

Time had passed, and slowly Geralt had begun to acclimate to his new body- of course not without severe denial. However this happened, his memory was lost of all that could key him into his situation and where he was.

He lost the rabbit he had been tracking by it dipping into its burrow. In his own, wolffish way, he sighed— which came out more as a canine-esque huff. He shook the melting snow off his coat before putting his nose to work.

His ears perked up, catching the snap of a branch. He jumped towards the noise and growled warningly.

“It’s okay.”

A young woman stood in front of him, cloak wrapped around her tightly as she braved the cold bite of the snowy wind. Her hand was held out carefully as if to signal she meant no harm. Still, Geralt persisted, laying his ears flat and snarling. The woman seemed to think a bit before reaching to her belt and untying something, tossing it towards him. A rabbit.

She gave a small smile and nodded to him, wrapping her cloak around her. He smelled the rabbit before approaching it slowly, keeping his eyes on the woman untrustingly. The rabbit was clean, he decided before tearing into it, blood soaking the pale white of his fur. He could see her slowly getting closer to him.

_Leave me alone._ He growled.

“You’re hurt,” She says to him. It was true, his front left leg was cut and bruised, he got snagged by a Kikimore.

_Strange woman. Talking to wolves._

“I’m sorry.” She states simply, a tinge of guilt rested in her face as she looked at him.

_Why are you sorry?_

“I hope you heal well,” She begins, once again reaching towards her belt, leaving two more rodents on the ground for him.

_Why are you helping me?_

“Stay safe, friend.” She says softly, an even softer gaze gracing her face. She turns away, walking through the dense woods and slowly, she disappeared from sight. 


	2. ii

Geralt had figured out he was in Temeria. Not at all pleasantly, by any means, but at least now he knew. He stalked around a small village outside of what seemed to be the outskirts of Vizima, closer to the forest. He trudged through quietly, if he tried hard enough he could pass as a dog, acting tame-like.

Geralt found no such luck.

“Wolf!!” A scared voice yells, childish in nature. Still, he continued walking, hoping that if he’d remained calm no one would actually bother him.

How wrong he was.

A large rock had been thrown harshly, hitting the back of his head with an aggressive thump. Without control, he whimpered before snarling, whipping his head around. Behind him stood a crowd of somewhat nervous and definitely angry people. A man picked up another rock, chucking it at Geralt, hitting the wolven head above his eye. Blood trickled down his face as his head was thrown back from the rocks force. Quickly, more rocks were being gathered and thrown at him until his legs gave out from the pain. He refused to harm these people, he didn’t blame them for attacking a monster. A few from the group gathered around him, large sticks and branches in hand, one carrying a much larger rock than that of the ones thrown before. He looked up at them before laying his head on the ground in defeat.

“Stop!” A voice yelled. Geralt’s head lifted once more, this time in response to the sound, “leave him be!” It yelled.

I’ll be damned.

It was the same woman as before, in the forest. She pushed past the crowd, then the men that had broken off from the group. Quickly she encased the wolf’s body with her own.

“Oi, get offa the beast. We’ll put it out of its misery.” Someone yells at the woman, Geralt didn’t know who, still covered by her body.

“Who are you to decide that when you are the reason for his ‘misery’.” The woman snaps.

“He’s useless, won’t last a day in the woods!” Another man sneers.

“Get yer bloody arse off it, girl.” Says the man who’s decided he’s had enough of this. His arm reaches for the woman’s shoulder, and quickly, Geralt lunges forward, jaws snatching the man’s wrist. Said man yelps abruptly, snatching his hand back from the sharp teeth. He’d only be left with bruising, but Geralt’s main intention was to get the crowd to leave him and the woman alone. And it worked.

The man backed up cautiously, holding his wrist, “you get that beast out of this village, you hear?”

The woman nods, watching everyone slowly leave, eyes turning back to them warily now and then.

“I’m sorry they’re so cruel…” the woman says, gently petting his head. Geralt hates the way his tail had a mind of its own, wagging as she scratched under his chin, “come now, before someone blows steam through their ears.”

She stands, helping Geralt to his feet. He turns away from her, beginning to walk away, “You’re really not going to stay? They’ll kill you. The guards have a special distaste for wolves.”

Geralt’s head turns, listening to her.

“At least let me help.”

His ears lay flat as he walks to follow her. Fine.

On the ends of the village sat an old cottage, weathered with love and care. A large draft horse stood next to it, tied to its post, lazily munching on the sweet grass around it. There were chickens, and Geralt stared them down hungrily.

“Don’t get any ideas, mister. Cole or the hens, you hear?” The woman scolded, “there’s plenty of food for you inside.”

Geralt’s head shifted upwards, cursing how short he was now. He knows that, in his human body, he’d be the one looking down at her. Of course, if he were in his body he also wouldn’t be staring down live chickens.

He followed the woman past the horse and to the large oak door, noticing that the cottage was made from cobblestone and supported by more oak. Old and dead ivy wrapped itself around portions of the cottage, and he knew it would be a lovely little house in the springtime, paired next to the large, equally shriveled dogwood tree. It was definitely a place commonfolk would love to call home.

The woman opened the door, and Geralt was immediately greeted by the smell of fresh-baked bread and hearty stew.

“Please get off the table, Bogdan.” She commands. A Hob, no taller than past Geralt’s wolffish shoulder jumped on the ground playfully and wrapped his arms around the woman’s leg. In turn, she patted his head.

“Bogdan wondered when Miss might come back home, did Miss have a good trip, did Miss get good things from the market?”

The woman laughs, “yes, Bogdan.”

The Hob lets go of her leg and does a playful happy dance.

House goblin, what else could I expect? She shares a certain respect for all creatures it seems. Geralt thinks to himself.

“Mister still ain’t back yet, Miss, he’s ‘possed to be home now!”

A husband?

“You’re just saying that so we can serve supper.”

Cheekily, the Hob nods, watching as the woman crouches face to face with him, “why don’t you round up Dima, wash up, and by then if he’s still not back, we’ll eat, hm?”

Bogdan nods excitedly and races off. Geralt looks up to a now standing “Miss”.

She enters the kitchenette, grabbing a cloth and dipping it into the basin, turned, and sat on a chair, making it face outward, and therefore Geralt.

“Come.” She pats her lap, and Geralt huffs and follows up, sitting in front of her and tucking his tail next to his legs. Once again, she pets him. And he knows she’s trying to comfort him and knows that she’s trying to help a bit, so he— voluntarily— thumps his tail lightly against the wooden flooring, laying his head in her lap.

“There’s not a possibility that you’ve always been this way.” She says, taking the wet towel and tending to his wounds some. His head perks, yes, exactly, now help me because I can’t fucking talk, and I want my damned body back!

She continues, “such pretty eyes,” a pause, “very distinct, hm?” A smile was given his way before she lightly grasps his paw. A fiery explosion of pain ran through him, and his first instinct was to yelp.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know.” She coos, running her fingers through his fur near the top of his head. He does it for her, lifting his leg and putting it against her thigh. She smiles, hand leaving his head, gently beginning to wipe away the blood on his padded foot. “I can’t place where I’ve seen them before…” She says, “and I am so sorry.”

Anyone else would think she was having a full fit of hysteria, but she was wise and knew what she was speaking of.

Why are you so apologetic?

“I wish I could help you.”

And she genuinely seems sad, Geralt notes, why? It wasn’t her fault.

Geralt gently nuzzled his face into the side of her arm, causing her to smile softly.

The door opens with a loud creak, and the woman looks up, smiling gently, “Hi Papa.”

This must be the “Mister” Bogdan was talking about.

Geralt should’ve known she wasn’t married, no ring on her finger, but he also knew that anywhere outside of the castle, people in small Temerian villages were likely below the poverty line. It didn’t completely let him know if she was married or not.

“What’s that you got, brought home a new friend?” The old man asks.

The woman nods, “He’s a man, I think.”

The elder gentleman furrows his brows, looking at Geralt with a questioning look, “You’ve gone mad, (Y/N). That’s a wolf. Tame, but a wolf all the same.”

(Y/N). Finally, a name to the person that’s been saving his ass for the last month, whether she knows it or not.

“Papa, look at his eyes. He’s no wolf, and he understands me. Wolves never would.”

Papa looks down at Geralt again, who looks up, locking eyes with him. The man raised his brows, “Hm. I suppose so… not a normal man, I take.”

Barely a human, but I’ll take that before monster I guess.

(Y/N) shakes her head, gently putting his paw on the floor and standing, “Bogdan and Dima should be here soon. Wash up, I need to finish up on this one before suppertime.”

//

Geralt’s head laid on a blanket placed on the floor for him near the hearth, empty bowl by his side as his eyes track the beings in the cottage. Dima, he learned upon meeting, was a Godling. Nothing unlike Johnny except his eyes, still as striking— just different in color.

Sleepily, he laid his head on his legs, one now being wrapped in a bandage, and he closed his eyes, sighing.

As morning came, Geralt awoke peacefully for the first time in a while. He yawned and stretched before getting up and nosing his way through the front door. Upon exiting, he was greeted with (Y/N), curled up in her blanket and cloak on a chair, reading peacefully. Dima sat in her lap, reading along with her it seemed. Maybe he was just looking at the pictures. (Y/N) paused, “Morning.” She says, sleep still laced in her voice.

He had to admit, she was beautiful. No need for exotic fabrics or color-altering makeup, as she sat in the chair with the little Godling, hair undone and cascading down her back, winter biting at her nose and cheeks, she was utterly, truly, and naturally beautiful.

Geralt—literally— shook the sleepiness from his body, sitting down next to the chair where the two sat. Dima stared at him, examining him.

“Wha’ happened to you?” He asked, looking expectantly for an answer. Geralt looked at him, giving a small, questioning tilt of the head in response.

“Dima, be nice.” (Y/N) scolded.

“I can hear ‘im!” He says, “animals, people, monsters- I speak to all of them and them, me!”

(Y/N) looks at Dima, wide-eyed, “Does that mea-“

You can hear me. Geralt says. The Godling nods proudly at Geralt with an “mhm!”

(Y/N) quickly closes the book, “That means we can help him, Dima! Why didn’t you say anything before?”

Dima shrugs, jumping off her lap, “Thought he was a nice wolf.”

Witcher.

“Ooooh, those can be mean. You’re not a mean one, huh?”

“What did he say?”

Dima looks between the two, “He’s a Witcher, Miss.”

(Y/N) nods slowly, and looks down to the side.

Great, Geralt thinks, now she knows.

(Y/N) walks towards Geralt, who doesn’t meet her eyes as she approaches, casting his eyes down. She bends down, running her fingers through the fur on his jaw and making him face her.

“We will get your body back. I swear it.” She says, a smile gracing her lips.


	3. iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To save you the trouble, Amphipter’s aren’t in Witcher lore, and I have combined elements of both the game and Netflix version!   
> Translation(*)- ”A man that does not express is more of a beast than a wolf. For a wolf knows the pain of life and the love of another. Find him in you, and you shall be free.”

_It was like he was standing on water, and although he wasn’t physically drowning, it still felt like it. Waves sludge crashed over top of him as he struggled to breathe, each one taking the breath from his lungs after the next. He was in his body, yes, but why was his brain telling him it was wrong? He was so confused, but as his thought left so did his breath again with another wave_

_And then it was dark. Still standing on the black water it was now calm, no waves to attack him. He looked down, now in his wolf form. Confused, he looked around. It was just dark everywhere. He walked, searching._

_As if whispering to him, he could hear a faint voice, “An dh'oine que does neén dice ess more y an d'yaebl than que y an bleidd, aep bleidd know pain y life, an minne y another. Darganfod him aen taedh an taedh shall ess free.”(*)_

_Geralt tried to find the voice, but the volume stayed the same, or maybe he was running in place. Elder speech was not his strong suit, only catching pieces of the sentences. Something of a beast? Pain and love? Fuck, he could feel his heart. The roar of a wave behind him rang through his ears, and try as he might, running was not working. It crashed onto him, once again knocking the breath out of his ches-_

* * *

Geralt woke with a start, jumping from the touch of what was in front of him.

Bogdan stood in front of him, a worried expression on the Hob’s face.

“Bogdan saw Master Witcher having a bad dream. Does Master Witcher wish for Miss to see him?” He whispers.

Geralt stared at him for a second before standing. Bogdan put a hand on the wolf’s shoulder, guiding him to (Y/N)’s chambers. He knocked lightly on the door, and within a few seconds she had opened the door tiredly, “Bogdan, it’s nearly three in the morning- oh.”

“Bogdan saw Master Witcher sleep running, Master Witcher was having a very bad dream, Miss, will Miss help Master Witcher?” He asks. (Y/N) smiles and nods with a ‘thank you’ before allowing Geralt to enter, closing the door behind him.

 _Sleep running._ Geralt would roll his eyes if he could. He must’ve looked rabid- or like an idiot, whichever.

“I wish I could ask about your dream.” (Y/N) says softly, returning to her bed, sitting on it and wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She pats the bed, “You can sleep up here if you’d like, I don’t mind.”

Geralt hops up on the bed. He wished he could tell her the mere importance of the dream, but it would have to wait until Dima was there to translate to her. He lays beside the young woman, letting her lay some of the blanket over him and run her hand through his fur.

“Is this okay? I’d hate to disrespect or offend.” She asks him, he responds by laying his head on her thigh.

 _No different than playing with someone’s hair,_ Geralt thinks.

She sighs, continuing to pet him for a bit, a steady quietness in the room.

“I feel I’ve heard of you before.” She says finally, thinking. Geralt looks up to her, “The White Wolf. Butcher of Blaviken.”

Geralt sits up, giving a small whine to tell her _yes, that’s me!_

She nods, “I’ve heard the things said about you.”

_Shit._

“And I don’t think you’re a monster.”

_But I am. And you should hate me for it. You should be scared, like everyone else._

His eyes cast down, “I think you’re brave. Sometimes that means doing things that damage you, knowing they will, and being okay with the hard choice.”

* * *

In the month that Geralt had been a wolf, he’d not once had a dream that he remembered. It was too… prophetically done, to be an actual dream. It had to have been a message from whoever had turned him. At least now, he somewhat knew something about them; they spoke Elder. That narrowed it down some, but not enough.

But with that dream came his memories, trickling back to life. Little things would remind him of where he was before and what he was doing.

He remembered being in Temeria and on contract for an Amphipter; a giant, winged, serpent of a monster, not unlike a dragon, but not quite one. A cousin, if anything. It had been terrorizing a village, as most of his contracts go. That’s where he needed to start.

Through Dima, he had told (Y/N) this.

“I’m glad you’re regaining your memory, but…” she paused, “don’t you think it’d be dangerous? Doing this in the form you’re in?”

_So be it._

“Then I’m coming with you.” She states.

Geralt growls, _no,_ and he hated the way pain spread across her face.

“Geralt, I am not leaving you defenseless.”

_And I am not risking your life._

She huffs, obviously upset.

“It’s for the better, Miss.” Dima breaks from his translating, putting in his two cents.

She shakes her head, leaving the table and walking outside. Geralt looks at Dima, then follows the young woman outside.

He barks, _wait,_ getting her attention, “Leave me alone, Geralt, I need time to myself.” She says sternly. He trots to her, meeting her pace, and noses her hand. She clenches it and folds her arms, “you better go back, people will be upset if they see you again.”

He bites the skirting of her dress and she stops, yet refuses to look at him. He walks in front of her and sits looking up to see tears in her eyes. Geralt paws at her leg and she smiles sadly before lowering to her knees, placing her hands to cup his face.

“I don’t want to _not_ know what happened to you. She says, shaking her head, “and I can’t stand the thought of not being there, or to have to hear from someone else that you’ve gone…”

(Y/N) wraps her arms around his neck, hugging him. In turn, Geralt lays his head on her shoulder.

“Promise you’ll come back to me, Geralt.” She whispers to him, choking on her tears.

_Of course, I will._


	4. iv

He’d wondered if he’d actually ever get to see her again after this. He didn’t believe in deities, but she, to him, was as close to a god-sent as there was. 

Geralt cursed himself with his wandering mind, _of course_ , he’d see her. He always kept his word. Besides, he wanted to thank her personally. With his voice and his words. 

Before leaving, she gave him her necklace, saying, “There. Now you have a reason to come back.” After clasping it around his neck and kissing the top of his head. 

_As if I’d need a reason._

He left at night, wanting to avoid the village people. His wounds were healed, making it easier to run. It seemed that spring was upon the Continent. There were fewer clouds, snow, less of a bite to the air… 

* * *

His journey brought him back to where he found himself. Clothes were picked apart and his swords were gone. He was disappointed, but not surprised in the slightest. Sniffing the ground, Geralt searched for something, anything, to clue him in. 

A piece of parchment stuck through the snow, yellow and ink smeared. Nothing on it was legible anymore, and the small amount of writing that was intact didn’t make any sense-- not just because it was in Elder.

But, it was more help than it seemed. He smelled it before tracking the scent it left. 

_Sandalwood, Mandrake, Horse, Griffin._

His journey brought him to a cave, Elder script lining the rocky walls as far as he could see. As he stepped in, the imminent feeling of being watched followed him, almost as if the walls of the grotto had eyes, tracking his every move. 

His ears laid back warily, making sure to be cautious as he continued forward. He was soon met with an overwhelming scent of death. The partial smell of horse had now been overtaken by the iron-tinged odor of blood, and not long after, he found the dead body.

This, however, wasn’t what he was expecting. 

A horse sat before an altar of some kind, its blood now dried, no longer puddling around its body. The candles, still lit, indicating the ritual was still being enacted upon, illuminated his surroundings partially. On a large stone, which held the candles, held a book.

_Hm._

Geralt stepped over the corpse towards the rock and jumped up, grabbing the book with his teeth. Almost immediately, his ears rang by a high pitched, ungodly screech. He dropped the book and turned fast. A Foglet angrily emerged from the fog, hissing, claws out.

_Shit._

Quickly, Geralt dodged the Necrophage. With no weapons and no way to communicate his signs, he felt at a loss for hope. The Foglet disappeared before reappearing in front of him, slashing at him, knocking him back feet away.

It was as if the room had completely silenced when a gasp was heard through the cave. Both the monster and wolf looked in the direction of the noise.

_Son of a bitch._

There she stood, scared out of her fucking mind. (Y/N). The Foglet made its way to (Y/N) as Geralt struggled to get up. After finding his feet he bolted as fast as his legs could carry him, running in between the two. He growled, jaws snapping at the Foglet who attempted to strike at him. He dodged it, and as the creature recoiled, Geralt snapped his jaws around the wrist of the monster. It screeched again, trying to scratch at Geralt’s body. When Geralt let go the Foglet disappeared. He backed himself up against (Y/N)’s body, snarling, following the foggy trail of the monster.

It appeared again, and with Geralt more prepared and now worrying over someone that wasn’t him, he attacked quickly, latching on the Foglet’s throat with a bone-crushing bite. It laid limp before him, body fallen to the ground. The wolf had a moment to breathe before he turned quickly, growling and glaring at the young woman.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want-” She started, interrupted by a blinding, light blue light escaping from the alter, traveling through the air and attaching to Geralt’s throat. Stupidly, Geralt attempted at biting the light, which turned unsuccessfully. And as soon as it came, it dissipated.

_What the fuck was that?_

“Oh my gods Geralt, you can talk!”

The wolf looked at (Y/N), amber eyes wide, ears laid back.

_Or, you can hear me._

“I can!” She says excitedly.

 _Good, then I can yell at you. What the **fuck** made you think following me, after I **specifically** said not to, was a good idea? You could’ve gotten hurt, killed even. _He growls.

(Y/N) gives him a guilty look, “I’m sorry. It was stupid, I know, I just-”

 _How long have you been following me?_ He interrupts.

She pauses, “Shortly after you left, I did too.”

He can’t help but think how she looks like a child who’s gotten into the cookies.

Geralt sighs in his wolfish fashion, _idiot_.

“I know, but… it’s good to hear your voice… _your’s_ , I mean, not, not Dima’s.” she says quietly, almost embarrassed. Geralt looks up at her before walking forward, leaning his head into her hand.

_We’ll talk about this later when we’re not in a magical cave with Foglets interrupting._

(Y/N) nods, letting her fingers run behind his ear before walking towards the book Geralt dropped, picking it up. After glancing at the open page she sighs, “I can’t read Elder.”

 _Why do you sound so ashamed? Not many people can._ He says, following her and trying to look at the pages with her. She lays it on the ground, letting Geralt see. 

“Why a horse as a sacrifice?” (Y/N) thinks out loud, looking at the mare’s body. 

_They are used for transformation spells. It’s rare and difficult to do, but possible._

“So whoever’s cursed you has to be very powerful, hm?”

_Very._

(Y/N) nods, understanding, “That should help narrow it down some, yeah?”

Geralt thinks to himself a bit, _Or, it’s more than one being working together._


	5. v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation(*)- Come witcher; The woman is eternum.

The two’s journey left them tiresome in travel, camping out near a creek, a fire crackling softly near them and Cole, the horse, continued snorting here and there as he bit at the grass. Geralt watched as the embers floated from the pouring smoke that emerged out of the ignited firewood. (Y/N)’s body lay next to him, head on his back leg as a pillow, her hand curled slightly into his white fur as small breaths left her nose. He wondered what she would think after he got his body back. Why did it matter to him?

“Have you slept yet?” Her sleep-laced voice surprised him a bit. “You haven’t, have you?”

 _Doesn’t matter,_ Geralt says. He turns his head towards her. Her eyes watched her for a second before she reached her hand up and pet his jaw. He didn’t mean to, but as if it were instinct, Geralt leaned into her touch, eyes closing as he sighed.

“You should. I can wake you if something happens,” she whispers. Geralt’s eyes remained closed until she sat up from her laid position. She scooted herself to sit when his stomach curled inwards and brought his head on top of her thigh, petting his head affectionately.

She was so gentle, he thinks, and he was _so_ starved from a truly loving touch that told him he would be okay.

Within seconds, he was asleep.  
//

_He looked to the sky. Moon Jellyfish floated through as if they were the stars themselves– birds without wings. The night heavens laid a dark blue over the atmosphere, stars freckling over the plain of air. As he looked around himself, he was in a meadow. Tall grass hid him, and unlike the last time, he was human, naked, but human._

_A voice spoke from within the meadow, “Cáemm, Vatt'ghern.(*)”_

_Geralt stood, following the voice. It led him to the center of the meadow, where a circle of tall rocks erected themselves from the ground. As he entered the circle, he noticed the crags were engraved with sigils and runes, glyphs depicting a man and a horned horse, granting him some sort of power._

_Again, the rocks had spoken to him, “Vatt’ghern,” it calls him, whispers, echoing through his ears, “Beanna ess eternum.(*)”_

_“What does that even mean? Give me my body back!” Geralt yells._

_“Beanna ess eternum.”_

_“Beanna ess eternum.”_

_“Beanna ess eternum…”_

_//_

Geralt woke with a start.

“Are you okay?”

He looks at (Y/N), whose expression was filled with worry. The way her eyes searched his for an answer had him vying for his body again.

_Dream. That’s all it was._

(Y/N) nods, “Well, it’s morning anyways. We should get going, hm?”

_Mhm._

The woman stands and collects herself, stretching her body this and that way. Geralt follows suit, extending his long legs in front of himself and arching his back, a large yawn escaping his mouth. After packing the few belongings they had and (Y/N) mounting her horse, they set back on their trail.

“You never did say where we are going, Geralt.”

Because he didn’t want to admit that he needed Jaskier of all people’s help. So instead he says, _Meeting someone._

She nods in understanding, “A friend?”

Geralt thinks, _Something like that._

Before long they were at an inn, grimey looking and reeking of stale water. 

Geralt snorts as (Y/N) whispers to herself “This looks like a fucking whorehouse.”

Might as well be one with Jaskier floating around, he thinks to himself. _Stay close._

(Y/N) dismounts Cole and ties him to the fence loosely, telling Geralt she knew he wouldn’t dare to leave unless provoked, and who actually would provoke him with hooves and a bodice as large as his?

The wolf and maiden enter the inn, cautiously looking around. Of course, they attracted attention, a woman and a large, white wolf entering. People stared, whispered, but they were there for one reason. Geralt can smell Jaskier from miles away, smelling of pine, lily and usually some sort of ale. He finds him quickly with (Y/N) in tow, and for once, Geralt notices, Jaskier– dramatic, flamboyant Jaskier, is not singing nor flirting. Instead, the bard quietly sits by his lonesome at a table in the corner, drinking an orangey-smelling ale, refusing to look at anyone.

Geralt motions with his head to talk to the bard, and (Y/N) quietly walks to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Jaskier turns, only slightly looking to her before averting his gaze back to his ale.

“Not in the mood, Miss, maybe later.”

(Y/N) looks inquisitively at him before turning to Geralt, who pushed her on, “You know Geralt of Rivia, yes?”

Jaskier lets out a pain-enforced scoff as if he were angry she’d even mention his name, “I thought I did. Turns out you don’t really know _anyone_ , and the only way you can find out is by them abandoning you and, and pulling a disappearing act. No _goodbye_ , not a _letter_ -”

“I know where he is,” she says, interrupting him. He stops, turning toward her quickly, glancing down at the wolf for a fleeting moment before looking back at the woman.

“ _Big dog–_ You do?! Well, where is he, show me!” he interrupts himself.

 _Yep. That’s Jaskier._ Geralt says more to himself than (Y/N).

She motions for Jaskier to follow him, and with them followed Geralt, unbeknownst to the bard. As they reach outside, the young man looks around.

“Well, where is he?” he asks, excitement lilting in his voice.

“He’s right here.” (Y/N) says, pointing at the wolf. Almost immediately, Jaskier’s face drops.

“Oh, you’ve got to be _shitting_ me.”

“No, no! I’m not, I promise! He can talk!”

“You’re a madwoman.”

(Y/N) looks at Geralt, worry fixed in her expression, “Say something!”

_I told you, you’re the only one that can hear me._

“Well, what would only he and you know?” 

Jaskier rolls his eyes and begins to walk off.

_He made me protect him at a betrothal._

(Y/N) relays the message, and Jaskier turns slightly, “Everyone was there, of course, you’d know that.”

_Shit. Uh, I let him rub chamomile on my ass._

“Are you _serious_? He- he let you rub chamomile on him!” she yells after the bard, who stops in his tracks. 

“How did you know that?” he asks suspiciously.

“Cause he told me, Jaskier. Look at his eyes!”

Jaskier sighs annoyedly and walks to Geralt, bends down and grabs his face. Geralt lets a wolfish huff out, watching Jaskier’s face turn from annoyed suspicion to surprise and awe, then finally happiness and relief.

“Geralt! Oh, by the gods, it’s you, it’s really you!” the man says, hugging Geralt around the neck, who would love more than anything to hit him and roll his eyes, even though there was a small part of him that almost needed the hug from someone he’d deem as a friend (though he would never let Jaskier get the big head he would by telling him).

“Do you have a room?” (Y/N) says as if she _could_ actually read Geralt’s mind. The bard looks at (Y/N) and nods questioningly, “Good, we need to talk.”


	6. vi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your continued love and support!! Also, if you don’t know what a ‘nocturnal emission’ is, take it to google LMFAO

“He woke up like this Jaskier, that’s why we’re here.” (Y/N) says gently. The male she spoke to nods in understanding. 

“To be honest, last I saw of Geralt is when he and I split just before he went to kill the monster, the uh, uh– _bollocks_ , what was it?”

“That doesn’t matter.” (Y/N) interrupts his thought process and he gives a slight pout, “Was there anything odd or different that you remember about this contract? Any detail could really help.”

The bard thinks for a minute looking at his clasped hands before he looks up, “He kept having weird dreams of a woman in the forest. He said she was in sheer white fabric and a stag or horse stood next to her. I told him it was a… nocturnal… _emission_.”

(Y/N) stared blankly at him before looking to Geralt. 

_I could choke him and no one would stop me,_ Geralt growled. 

(Y/N) laughed a bit, “Be kind.”

Jaskier looked between the two of them, “Is he not being such?”

“Nevermind that, anything else?” She asks.

“Nothin’, sorry love.”

(Y/N) nods, thinking. 

_I haven’t stopped having dreams,_ Geralt mentions, making the young woman look to him.

“Why didn’t you mention it?”

“Didn’t mention what-”

Geralt shakes his head, looking down. 

“We met a woman before leaving!” Jaskier interrupts. The other two turn to look at him, “Yeah, she had information about the contract.”

* * *

Well, this isn’t what they were expecting.

In front of them, it seemed as if a mud and stone hut erected itself from the earth, hay stacked atop of it in the form of a roof. The three of them looked at each other.

“I’m not knocking,” Jaskier says. 

_I don’t have hands._

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, then approaches the door, knocking lightly. “Miss, are you here?” She calls. The door slowly opens and an old, scraggly, hunchbacked woman walked out. The woman looks annoyed and upset at first, but after the initial greeting her face wells up with happiness and excitement. 

“The White wolf and Maiden arrives!”

“I don’t get a cute nickname?” Jaskier whispers to himself. The three of them were invited in to take a seat at the old woman’s table. She patters around the hut, mumbling to herself joyously. 

“Miss, we need to know what you know— what happened to Geralt, _why_ is he this way?” 

“The gods and goddesses ascended upon us!” She says. Jaskier mumbles to himself about the lunatic woman and her odd hut. 

“So you _do_ know why he’s like this?”

“O’ course, silly girl.” she laughs, curling her finger around a lock of (Y/N)’s hair, “She needed him to learn.” 

“Learn what?” Jaskier asks. Geralt listens closely, knowing the old woman was either batshit or speaking the truth— perhaps both. 

“An dh'oine que does neén dice ess more y an d'yaebl than que y an bleidd, aep bleidd know pain y life, an minne y another. Darganfod him aen taedh an taedh shall ess free.” She whispers to herself. 

Geralt stands quickly, _What did she just say?_

“The man that does not feel is more of a beast than a wolf. For a wolf knows the pain of life and the love of another. Find him in you, and you shall be free.” She says a bit louder, “That’s what the horned lady said, hm?”

_What the fuck._

(Y/N) looked at Geralt with a worried expression before looking back at the woman. She had come up behind the wolf and snagged a hair off of the back of his neck, making Geralt growl. She quickly hobbles toward a bowl that stood atop a fire in her hearth. The hair singes even before it reaches the liquid of the bowl as she adds the hair in, and she gives it a quick stir before placing the bowl on the ground in front of Geralt. He eyes the woman suspiciously.

“Drink, drink!” the hag demands.

“What _is_ that?” Jaskier asks, looking at it disgustedly. 

The bowl was filled with a warm, honey-colored liquid that had the consistency of broth. It didn’t smell as bad as it looked, the concoction produced an aroma of different herbs. Still, the Witcher eyed the woman carefully.

“Ya wanna be in your body again or not?”

(Y/N) looks excitedly to Geralt and then to the old woman, “This will give him his body back?”

“Mmm, not without a price, of course– The Lady still wants you to learn.” She nods slowly.

_What’s the catch?_

“Oh, poor wolf, ye lose ye voice.”

“Am I the _only one_ who can’t hear him?” Jaskier whispers to (Y/N) who ignores him.

“Of course, the Maiden will still be able to hear ye, but yer slow friend won’t, neither will any other commoners. Just us magic folk.”

“ _Slow friend_ , you are _very_ rude, woman!”

“Jaskier shut up.” (Y/N) whisper yells.

 _Anything else?_ Geralt asks.

“Hmmm…” the woman thinks, “As dusk turns to dawn, so shall ye. By morning, and throughout the days, you will lose your body once again.”

 _Great. Better than nothing I guess._ Geralt says before downing the concoction.

“You’ve been a wonderful help, Miss,” (Y/N) says, smiling and setting her hand on the old woman’s shoulder, “Is there anything else we need to know?”

The woman stares at (Y/N) for a second, eyes glazing over, “Y-yes… like all transformation, it will be painful… The Lady will come more to him in his sleep.”

The younger female looks at Geralt worried, _I’ll be okay_ , he assures her. 

She turns back to the witch, “You keep speaking of this Lady, who is she?”

“That’s for him to learn, Las.”

The three of them leave after Geralt finishes off the potion. Hopefully, she actually knew what she was talking about instead of being as crazy as she seemed. Something caught his attention in particular in regards to the conversation, though. If only ‘Magic Folk’ could hear him, _then what did that make (Y/N)?_


	7. vii

The trio had settled down for the day, setting up camp in the woods once again. Geralt’s mind continued with questions in regards to his situation. Who really was (Y/N)– who was the Lady? Why was she doing this to him? _What did it all mean?_

“Geralt?” 

Her voice broke his thought. He looked to her, face filled with worry. 

_Your hair is going to turn white if you keep worrying._

She gives a small laugh, “I’m just thinking about what the old woman said. I hope it doesn’t hurt too much…” 

_I’ll be okay._

“It’s good we stopped to get you clothes, though.”

_Mhm._

She stands from the log she had sat on, stretching and looking to the horizon, “It’s dusk…”

Almost as if her words spoke it into existence, Geralt’s body jolted. Cracks left his spine and he barked out in pain. She watched in horror as his body crunched and split. Jaskier ran towards the sounds, joining (Y/N) in the gaze. All they could do was watch him howl and yelp in pain as his wolven body exuded human skin, slimy from blood and steaming from the body heat meeting cool air. Soon, a human body left the split-open and bloodied body of the wolf, naked and baren. 

_That was fucking awful._ Geralt groaned to himself. 

“You… need a bath.” Jaskier said slowly, looking at him up and down. (Y/N) kept the respectful boundary and averted her eyes from his body, only looking at his face. Shock seeped through her as she looked at him. 

* * *

Geralt sat on the ground next to (Y/N), who watched as Jaskier slept peacefully. 

“So… this is you?” She asks, still not looking at him. 

_Not what you thought?_

“No, no it isn’t that…” she trails before she meets his gaze, “I don’t think I _fully_ convinced myself that everything was real. It seems too… fairytale-like, you know?” Geralt’s stomach churned as he nods. He felt her hand rest on his arm, “At least I have a face to the name, an actual one.” She gives a small smile. He could hear her heart, slow and steady, every once in awhile it would pick up. “I hate that you’re in so much pain after transforming, though…” 

_It’s not as bad as it looks._

“You’re not very convincing.” Geralt chuckles some, looking at her fully, “Promise?” She asks softly, returning his gaze finally, looking into his golden-amber eyes. 

_Promise._

He wondered if things were different now, now that she had seen him for him. _Of course, they were._ And once again his thoughts were interrupted by her, this time she trailed a finger across his cheek— _so tenderly_ — touching a scar that drew over his face. 

“How are you still alive?”

 _It’s a talent of mine_. He smiles, huffing out a snort through his nose, more than glad to hear the smallest of laughs coming from her lips. Finally, she placed her hand on his jaw. He watched her with a softness in his face, tilting his head ever so slightly into her touch. 

“You’re no beast, Geralt of Rivia.” She states as fact, as if he were now being taught something different than what he’d known his whole life, “Just a man— an _extraordinary_ one at that.” And she smiles, so warm and filled with hope. It’s contagious. For a second, her eyes search his, and as he begins to lean into her she stands quickly.

“You should sleep, transforming like that is probably exhausting-”

_(Y/N)._

“It’s a bad idea, Geralt,” she says softly.

_What is?_

“This.” 

Geralt’s heart drops to his stomach, _So be it then._ He says, disappointment lacing his voice in a powerfully pained vice.

“It’s not against you, Geralt.”

 _It’s not you, it’s me– so cliche, (Y/N), you should really find another line._ He growls.

She becomes quiet, “I’m sorry.”

_I am too._

* * *

The next couple of days were… awkward, to say the least. Jaskier had non-stop continued to annoy Geralt with questions as to what happened between the two. (Y/N) had left to collect food or something, take a walk, maybe? He didn’t listen. It was past dusk though, and the back of his mind told him that something was wrong when she hadn’t been back after his transformation (which she had begun to leave just before his transformation and return just after recently), yet he continued to ignore it. 

“You’re not in love with her, are you?” Jaskier asks. Geralt adverts his eyes somewhere else, “You _are_! I bloody knew it! And don’t give me the _‘I can’t love anyone cause I don’t feel’_ bullshite again because you know just as well as I do that there is _way_ more to you than a monster killer with a scary face.”

Geralt rolls his eyes, standing and wiping his hands on his trousers. A scream pierced the air with a needle-like sharpness suddenly, turning Geralt’s attention from the conversation to the helpless cry.

“Geralt, help me!” It said.

“(Y/N)!”Jaskier called out worriedly. The two rushed off to the screams, following them. Geralt’s slow heartbeat quickened with every step that he got closer, adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

They were met with the grizzly sight of a Rotfiend exploding, knocking the woman in question back three feet and against a tree. The rest of the pack hissed and growled, noticing the two men as they approached. Geralt pushed Jaskier towards (Y/N), who laid unconscious, as he pulled a steel sword from his back that he’d found during their travels- _fuck,_ he’d need a new silver soon.

One by one, he rid them of their existence, covered in their blood and stench of pure death. He pauses for a moment before turning towards the other two, Jaskier over her body and he holds her head. He could hear him whisper to her how she was going to be okay and that she needed to wake up and to _please, please fucking wake up._

Geralt slowly neared them. Her heart was slow, breath soft. He scooped her from where she lay, moving her hair from her face. Blood seeped from the back of her head and scratches that riddled her body.

_Don’t you dare fucking die on me, (Y/N)._


	8. viii

The three were at a stand-still until (Y/N) recovered. It’d only been a day, and as Geralt sat next to her bed with the promise of the village doctor, he waited for her to wake up.

As fast as he could after defeating the pack of Rotfiends he and Jaskier packed up and went straight to the nearest village. Each turning he left to the forest, and whispers of the ‘howler in the woods’ began spreading into conversations with fear. And again, he was reminded that he was a monster.

(Y/N), for whatever reason, didn’t see that. And for it, he was grateful. Confused, but grateful.

In her sleep, she called him and her father every so often. Each time he’d attempt to comfort her by stroking her hair or face with the gentlest touch he could muster, _it was what she deserved_ , he thought to himself.

It didn’t matter what body he was in when it came to her. He would be by her side– save for the dawn and dusk times of the day.

Her eyes slowly opened, and Geralt stood from his chair, looming over her bed. She gave him a soft smile before a pained moan was enticed from her mouth.

 _Take it easy,_ he says and grabs a glass of water, handing it off to her as she sits up. She drinks it carefully and finished the glass.

“Why are you here?” is the first thing she asks.

_What do you mean?_

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His heart clutches, _You don’t mean that._

“I’ve been nothing but unkind and a burden to you, Geralt.”

Geralt pauses, thinking to himself for a brief moment before he says, _Do you have the slightest idea of how fucking important you are to me, (Y/N)? I thought I was going to lose you. I thought I would have to bury you._

“I’m sorry-“

 _No, stop,_ he interrupts. She closes her mouth as tears well into her eyes. Geralt cups her jaw and sighs, _I keep trying to stop myself from loving you and I can’t. And it is fucking destroying me._ He watches as a tear rolls down her face, and briefly, he wipes it, _Don’t cry (Y/N)._

“I don’t mean to.” She laughs a bit through a cry, “I’m just… scared, Geralt.”

_Don’t be._

“I love too much, and in the end, it always hurts me. And I’m scared that it will happen again… and people only accept the love they think they deserve. If you can’t love yourself then,— then how the _fuck_ am I supposed to be able to put forth the effort of letting you love me and being okay with it? Am I even worth it?”

Geralt shushes her, _Don’t say that._ It was like he could see into her past, what happened that made her so afraid? _You are worth everything, (Y/N). I would bring you the moon if you wanted it._

She sobs, and shakes her head, and Geralt is quick to bring her to his chest as sobs wracked her body. He runs his hand through her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and hugging her close. She pulls back, “I really feel like properly kissing you.”

_Then do it._

And she does, it makes Geralt’s heart flutter fervently as he returns, his lips moving against her own, and good _gods_ they were so soft. He could feel her pain, her love, her fear. All of it. And it made even him, the heartless Witcher, crave to cry for her.

She breaks from him, pressing her forehead to his, eyes still closed. His eyes search her face as he sees the ghost of a smile gently curl into her face, “You’re a much better person than you think you are, Geralt. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

_I like it when you’re romantic._

She laughs, “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

 _Only a bit,_ he laughs with her, pecking her forehead before hugging her fully.

* * *

As (Y/N) slowly recovered, the team was stunned as to what the next step was.

“If you sleep more, you would have a better chance at having dreams, yeah?” Jaskier thinks out loud before seeing Geralt’s face, “Stop giving me that look, I’m trying to help!” 

Geralt rolls his eyes.

“We don’t need him depressed on top of being a shapeshifting mute, Jaskier.” (Y/N) snorts slightly in a held-back laugh.

 _What if I sent him on his very own contract?_ Geralt asks (Y/N), who shrugs.

“Stop telecommunicating it makes me feel you’re talking badly of me.” Jaskier pouts slightly.

“He was just saying how…” She looks at Geralt, _Roach, get me my damn horse back,_ “How he needs you to find Roach!”

Jaskier looks suspicious of the two, eyes darting between them, “Hm. Fine.” He says, “I know exactly where she is too, just a village or two over.” 

“You’re more than welcome to take Cole as well, Jaskier. Thank you.” (Y/N) says, giving the younger man a soft smile. He returns it.

“I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

And with that, Jaskier left to his room.

_Thank gods._

“How long has it been since you’ve slept, hm? You look like a Rotfiend.” The woman next to Geralt speaks up after they’re left alone.

 _You’re one to talk._ He smirks, running a finger through her hair. He loved being able to touch her with his own hands– he took them for granted so very often. She offers a warm grin. _While you were sleeping I readied a bath._

“That’s sweet of you.” 

Carefully, cautious to make too quick of a movement, Geralt helps her out of the bed she lay in, steadying her with a hand on the small of her back.

 _Doesn’t this dress make it hard for you to function?_ He asks as he leads her to the bath that lay in a separate space of the room, a divider blocking the view from the bed to the bath.

“After being forced in them as a small child you learn to get used to it somehow.” she laughs out, a strike of pain being held back in her voice. His heart clutches for her, it having not liked the fact that she was in pain.

And somehow she notices his worry.

“It’s not that bad.”

 _You’re not convincing,_ He mocks her, bringing the memory of their previous conversation to light. She gives another laugh despite her pain.

“You’re rude,” she says, clutching her side.

Once they reach the tub, he carefully unlaces her dress, playfully asking her if she wanted him to join her with an ‘I do believe we’re alone now,’ to which she stutters out a ‘Just, turn around’ before he helps in taking her bandages off. He does as told, turning and hearing her step in the basin of hot, lavender-infused saltwater with a godly sigh. 

“Don’t feel you need to stay here-”

 _I want to._ He could hear the knowing smile in her sigh.

“Fine, then at least get a chair.” 

With his back turned still, he positions a chair next to the bath, listening to her as she rubs dirt and grime and blood off of her body. 

“You should talk more. I like the sound of your voice…” she trails off before he hears a splash. He grunts. “I didn’t mean like that.”

A smile creeps across his face, _What would you like me to say then?_ She thinks for a small second, “What was your childhood like?”

_You’re awful at conversation._

“At least I don’t grunt my yeses and nos.” She giggles.

He sighs, tilting his head in thought. _Brutal, to put it simply. My mother left me to the witchers, and I didn’t know if I would survive past ten. When I did, it was the most agonizing thing I, and anyone else, would be subjected to. Only three boys made it out._

He could feel her wet hand grasp his elbow, and with that came flashes of images— _Kaer Mohren, the meadow in the middle of the forest, the rocks, the Lady._

He came to and turned his head towards (Y/N), who had retracted her hand in shock. 

_We need to go to Kaer Mohren._


	9. ix

Brutal, fortified, dark, historical.

It stood in front of him, tall, proud… destroyed. Even as the post-destruction of the castle clung to every brick it bore, it was still all of those things. Not one part of the broken fort shouted that it possessed even the slightest remark of ungreat, if anything, it accentuated the prideful disdain it cast over the land it saw to.

“This is a bad idea,” Jaskier says, almost to himself.

Geralt rolls his eyes, _You think all of my ideas are bad._

“He’s right, this one specifically seems a little worse than most of your ideas.” (Y/N) says.

_Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?_

She shrugs, “I’m on the side of living. I’m going to be pissed if we get murdered.”

Jaskier laughs nervously, looking between the two of them, “I don’t know what the two of you are saying, but I’m scared.” he says, sitting behind (Y/N) on Cole (since Geralt didn’t want to share Roach, as usual).

(Y/N) laughs at Jaskier, “Don’t worry Dandelion, we’ll make it out okay.” She rubs his shoulder in comfort. He looks wearily at her before sighing.

“Geralt… it’s nearly sunset, dove.”

As if her voice was laced with another, the sound of it intertwined. It was like she spoke two sentences at the same time as his vision blurred and balance wobbled.

“Cáemm bleidd, feainn ess va ys.”

A growl erupted from Geralt’s throat, glaring at (Y/N).

“What’s wrong?” she asks incredulously. No other voice spoke, just hers. She cautiously approached him, putting a hand to his canine head as he looked down and running her fingers through his fur.

_I’m fine. We’re close._

She nods and the pair follows Geralt as he leads towards the forest.

There was an eerie feel to the woods this night. It was normal for him to sit on edge when it came to have so many places for creatures of the night to hide, but it was… different, he concluded.

As the sun set, he bore the pain of transformation once again, as he had every night. While he preferred to be alone during it, he couldn’t stand the sight of (Y/N) and Jaskier’s worriedly horrified faces, he was comforted by her hand against his face, gently pulling him into calmness. 

He got dressed after and carried on. His body ached, throat sore, tiredness brushing against him. He refused to let it hinder his facade, instead, pushing on afterward, only stopping when finding an abandoned silver sword.

Howls traveled through the night, echoing against the rocky mountains that lay purchase along the horizon. Geralt’s ears picked it up, focussing on it. His senses followed, he could smell it, tracking the scent and sound two miles ahead and, not surprisingly, deep into the forest. Eventually reaching the meadow, the group could see what lay before them. 

“What the _fuck_ is that, Geralt?” Jaskier says a bit too loudly. In quick response, Geralt covers his mouth, pressing a finger to his own lips in a ‘shhh’ display. 

_A Leshen_ , He says, _Forest spirit, guardian, whatever you want to call it, and it’s right where we need to be._

(Y/N) relays the message quietly to Jaskier, staring at the deer-headed tree monster, “If it’s protecting the forest, then it wouldn’t hurt someone who isn’t trying to destroy it, yeah?”

_They don’t know the individual intentions of humanity anymore, they just know that, collectively, we have hurt it. And they’re pissed about it._

“Oh. Makes sense.” 

Geralt, now equipped with his silver sword, unsheathed it, steadily walking towards the creature, _Stay._ He says in a serious tone. As soon as he got too close, the Leshen twisted its neck towards him, making an awful cracking sound that would’ve surely been the end to normal, nonmagical creatures. It pierced the sky with a call, and through the woods surrounding the meadow emerged wolves, snapping and snarling at him, crows flying towards him. He readied his blade, arming himself against what was to come.

It was as if one had attacked, another would join, and the Leshen would attack him from behind. Without magic himself, he couldn’t fully protect, nor prepare or defend himself, from the constant bites and hits. He collapsed, feeling wolves tug and pull on him as he attempts to stop them.

He could hear a feminine scream cast through the meadow, the residue of the word ‘no’ casting it. As if it were a command, the attacks ceased, all creatures stopping and turning their heads to the noise. Geralt sat up slowly, following their gaze. Next to a slightly shaken Jaskier floated (Y/N), though maybe it wasn’t her… a yellow dress curtained her body, an aura of the same color lightened her surroundings, hair flowing behind her as she came towards the beasts.

As she approached, Geralt could see that, yes, it was (Y/N)’s face, but her eyes were white and she was _fucking_ floating with a _god damn_ golden aura.

“Taedh did yeá, Leshy, taedh caen dearme a'taeghane.”

Geralt watched as her hand touched the skull of the Leshen gently, just as she’d done not too long ago, cupping the side of his face. As she withdrew her hand, the Leshen dissipated into ash, leaving nothing but its head on a grassy bed. She looked toward the pack of wolves, smiling softly, “Ess aen te way.”

And as she commanded it, the pack dispersed into the woods. Her gaze landed on Geralt as her feet dropped and planted themselves onto the meadow floor. She lent a hand to Geralt, which he took.

 _You’re the Lady._ He says a bit too casually.

The smile on her face never leaves as she tilts her head, cupping Geralt’s jaw, “I am… not what you could comprehend, Witcher.”

_‘Can’t comprehend’ my ass, show me yourself so we can get this over with._

Her smile turns downward into a frown, “So quick to violence, White Wolf. You haven’t even thanked me for returning your voice, your body…”

He glares at her, _Why should I thank you when you’re the one that took it?_

She laughs lightly, shaking her head, “You must not know who or what you are truly against.”

_Then tell me, dammit!_

With that, the stones around him glowed, vibrating to the point of making an unbearably loud noise. He closes his eyes and covers his ears in pain.

Then it’s quiet. _So quiet_. He opens his eyes and looks around. Again, he is on the black water, standing on it as if it were rock. But he can feel the wetness between his toes, and the coolness arise from it. Geralt huffs and the Lady in (Y/N)’s body graces by him, gently touching the lower portion of his spine as she passes. It makes him shiver.

“Do you know what it all means?” 

_Fucking what?_

“Eternum, Geralt. What it is, what all of this is for, what everything means?” she turns around, her glowing gaze cast upon him.

_Am I supposed to?_

“I wouldn’t expect continentals to, no…” she trails off, bending down and dipping her hand into the black water, pulling out a perfectly shaped sphere of it, “It is eternity. Your destiny.”

Geralt rolls his eyes, _Destiny isn’t something I believe in, thank you for your time._

She laughs, “You don’t have to. It believes in you, White Wolf.” She tosses the orb to him, which he catches. He can see his own reflection, eyes glinting in it as he stares before bringing his gaze back to the Lady.

“Eternum is _much_ more than destiny. While everyone has a destiny, it changes. Eternity is less _fluid_ , less likely to change coarse than destiny, and Eternum is… rare. It selects its individuals, it is intense, and no matter what you do, it will find its way to you.”

_And that’s why we’re here, I’m assuming._

She nods, “You must have a lot of questions floating through your head right now, hm?”

He took a second to think to himself, _Yeah, why is (Y/N) mine, what does that even mean? Who are you really? Why am I… the way that I am right now?_

She pauses for a moment, turning around and walking forward some, “She is… not what you think. Which is the reason I can vicariously live through her-”

_She’s of magical blood then._

“… Yes. She doesn’t know it, however. She is… of a different race all together Geralt, you _must_ understand. As she continues to live on through the centuries, she will always fail to remember. And in this life, you are here to… guide. As in the next life, and the life after that, and so on, and so forth.

“To answer your other question pertaining to me, cultures have, as I’ve noticed, called my race _Unicorns_. In reality, we just watch from above and below, a reality much different from your own and really, all together, in the same… “

_You must, cause you’re not making any sense._

“Your puny, _human_ mind could _never_ fully comprehend my race. All you need to know is, I am here to help. Guide you and (Y/N). You both are more than you realize.” She nearly spits, taking a bite from his ego. 

Geralt rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, _Then put it into terms my ‘puny human mind’ can understand._

She turns away, hugging her sides. 

“She is… kin of a god. And her brother is _very_ upset with her.”


	10. x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO IN ONE DAY?!?!?!?! ... only because i forgot i had a whole ass chapter to post before this one lol

_A what?_

“A god, Geralt. Your beloved is a demi-goddess.” The Lady replies.

_Wonderful. And her brother, what does he want?_

“Her. A life of what he deemed as a betrayal. While He demands to be… worshiped, in a cultivated religion, she had chosen to live amongst the very beings he wants, to live in a world of peace and guide those who hurt the world and its creatures. He feels as though if he were to see what he sees, they could someday rule the world.”

Geralt sighs to himself, _How are you able to counteract everything he’s done to me?_

“His spells have cracks in them. He’s very sloppy with it.”

He nods, _You think given his age he’d have mastered magic, hm?_

The Lady nods, turning to him, “She needs your help in defeating him. Just because he’s somewhat of a god doesn’t mean he’s undefeatable. He’s very human in that way.”

Geralt thinks about it. Within seconds the awful noise is back, vibrating loudly through his body and he is transferred back into the meadow. He coughs, catching his breath as if it’d been stolen from his lungs. 

(Y/N) drops next to him and gasps, her breath once again returning to her as well. Jaskier is quickly by their sides, calling their names. 

“Your nose is bleeding, dove,” Jaskier says, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, dapping away the blood that dripped.

“What was that?!” she gasps as soon as she begins catching her breath into a normal pace.

 _The Lady_ , Geralt says, sitting upon his knees, _She can use you as a vessel of sorts._

(Y/N) looks at Geralt, “But _why_?”

He looks at her, should he tell her? What would happen if she knew? He decides against it, _Maybe she thought Jaskier couldn’t handle it,_ he shrugs with a small smirk.

She laughs a bit, gathers herself, and stands. Geralt follows suit. His body ached, no doubt hers did too.

“So uh, what did you figure out?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt sets his gaze on him, _Nothing really._ He lies.

“Nothing? Are you serious?” (Y/N) asks in a shocked manner. Geralt shakes his head.

_I don’t know where to go from here._

He sounded defeated, lost, almost. Seldomly did he find himself this way, uncertainty was nothing uncommon for him, but when it came to what to do next he always seemed to know exactly what to do.

Luckily, he had (Y/N).

“We can go back to an inn, get some rest, let this situation simmer. Maybe you’ll have another dream, who knows?” she smiles gently and places a hand on his shoulder. He looks at her lovingly and leans into her hand as it connects to his cheek.

* * *

“Another night, another inn.” Jaskier nearly groans, watching as his counterparts tied off their horses.

“Grab two rooms, will you?” (Y/N) asks, handing him her coin purse. He obliges, going inside as instructed. She turns to Geralt, “What really happened?” she asks expectantly.

Geralt shakes his head, _I was left with more questions than answers._

“You don’t need to hide it from me. For Lilit’s sake, I was the vessel for… her, and I don’t even know what happened!”

Maybe she didn’t want you to know. He shrugs.

She huffs, “This isn’t like you.”

_You are much better off without knowing. In time, when it comes up, which I am more than positive it will, I’ll explain to you._

“Geralt-”

_Drop it._

She looks at him, surprised, and hugs her sides, “… I’m going to see if Jaskier set us up.” She leaves quickly into the inn, leaving Geralt to his own mind. He _hated_ this, hated how she of all people were involved into this more than suspected, how she was targeted. 

He sighs, looking down, petting Roach’s neck, more so to comfort himself than the horse.


End file.
